Inside This House

Chapter 7 "Honey?" Kennedy looked up from the Sunday crossword puzzle and smiled. Carson tousled, first thing in the morning, was still just as cute and appealing as the first time she'd come walking into Kennedy's kitchen some eight months earlier. "Yessss?" She pushed the paper aside and scooted her chair further away from the table, as Carson sat down in her lap. "You. --" Carson poked her in the chest. " -- Snuck out of bed and left me all alone." "You --" Kennedy poked back. " -- looked like you needed to sleep in." "Because you -- " Carson's finger trailed down between her breasts. " -- wore me out last night." "Are you complaining?" Kennedy eased a hand along Carson's thigh and up her side, brushing the side of her breast as she stole a kiss. It quickly escalated and she felt Carson's breath catch, as she stroked a hardened nipple with her thumb. Her own breath caught when she felt her attentions returned in kind. "Whoa." She pulled back and rubbed noses with Carson, pecking her lips several times in succession. "That was nice." "Who needs coffee?" Carson shook her head vigorously. "Wow. I’m awake now." She smiled and slid off Kennedy's lap, bending down and stealing one more kiss. As she turned toward the kitchen counter, Kennedy reached out and patted her on the behind. "But you're making coffee anyway, right?" "Of course." Carson grinned over her shoulder, then pulled a bag of coffee beans from the freezer and poured a handful into a grinder. "You're not working tomorrow, are you? It is Memorial Day, after all." "No." Kennedy pulled the newspaper back in front of her and picked up her pen. "Why?" "I was thinking we should plan something fun. I think Katie's pretty bummed that Parker had to take the weekend to take the kids to your folks', instead of coming here." "Well, he kind of had to do something with them for the next few months. It'll be a lot easier for him to get on a plane when she goes into labor, if he doesn't have to figure out what to do with three kids." The clatter of the coffee grinder precluded conversation for a minute, and Kennedy studied the puzzle closer. "You rock climb, don't you?" She asked, as soon as the noise died down. "Honey, Katie can't rock climb. She's seven months pregnant. I was thinking more along the lines of something relatively quiet here at home." Carson dumped the fresh grounds into the coffee filter and started the pot brewing. "No." Kennedy laughed. "I need a seven-letter phrase that starts with an 'O.' It says 'you say this before you begin to climb'." "Oh." Carson retrieved an orange from a bowl on the center island and sat down at the table to peel it. "On belay." "I knew having you around would come in handy." Kennedy winked at her and filled in her puzzle. "Thanks." "Hmmmm. You seemed to think I was pretty handy last night. Only I believe I heard 'baby, please' a lot more than I heard 'thank you'." Carson held an orange slice in front of her, which Kennedy snapped up with her teeth. It was sweet and gushed as she bit it in half, offering part of it back over with one raised eyebrow. She felt Carson's lips brush against hers and reached across, tangling her fingers in Carson's short hair and drawing her closer as they attempted to kiss and consume the morning treat at the same time. It was messy, and even sweeter than the orange, and they both burst out laughing as they broke apart, the orange juice smeared across their faces. "Baby, please," Kennedy moaned, in a breathless tone mimicking the one she had used the night before. She leaned in again, rubbing her wet mouth against Carson's cheek. This only made Carson laugh harder. "Stop it!" She grabbed a napkin from the table and swiped it across her face. "You're getting me all sticky." "Didn't seem to bother you last night. What a difference a day makes," Kennedy teased. "There was a bit more pay off involved last night," Carson drawled. Her eyes were sparkling and she slid across, straddling Kennedy's lap and wrapping her arms around her neck. As she tilted her head, Kennedy grasped her behind with both hands and closed her eyes, enjoying a long, slow kiss. She pulled Carson completely against her and deepened the contact, feeling Carson move against her, brushing their bodies together. It set her own body on fire and she slid Carson to one side, pressing Carson's hips down and grinding her thigh up against her. "Let's go back to bed." Kennedy nipped her ear, then nibbled along her neck to her shoulder, tasting the salty, soft skin and biting down, taking a small fold between her teeth. She had become quite fond of thin, tight tank tops with spaghetti straps. "Katie's up," Carson replied, the frustration in her voice more than evident. "I told her I'd bring her a breakfast tray in thirty minutes or so. I should probably get moving. Poor thing. Those babies are using up her energy as fast as she can take it in, but they're squashing her stomach so much she can't eat as much at a time as she needs to." "Then let's go back to bed." Kennedy moved lower, nuzzling Carson's breast. It was nice and soft and warm, and Carson smelled sweet and musky. She inhaled deeply, pulling Carson's shirt aside and licking at a bit of exposed skin, her heart beating double time as she felt warm breath along the back of her neck. "How about we take a nice, long nap this afternoon?" Carson soothed, her voice low, as she blew in Kennedy's ear. "Oh, god. You are evil." Kennedy laughed and released the nipple she'd bitten. "Okay." She batted her eyelashes. "I can wait for a nap." "I hope I can," Carson muttered, arranging her tank top back into place. She slid off Kennedy's lap, and as she scooted back, Kennedy stroked her hand up the inside of her leg. "Stop it!" Carson swatted at her hand. " 'Don't stop,' 'don't stop,' don't stop'," Kennedy chanted, her voice high and breathy. "Sound familiar?" She squeezed Carson's behind, then finally relented and let go. "Aggh!" Carson bent over, her face completely serious, inches away from Kennedy's. "If you don't stop, I'm going to get familiar with you right here on the kitchen floor." She patted Kennedy's cheek. "Do you want your unborn nieces to starve to death?" Kennedy held her gaze, their eyes locked for a moment, then she glanced down at the ample cleavage directly in her line of sight. She licked her lips and grinned lasciviously, rolling her eyes up at Carson suggestively. "Oh, you!" Carson yelped in outrage. She pecked Kennedy's lips and Kennedy reached over, rubbing her arm. "Go on. Get the tray out. I'll help you make Katie's breakfast. Then we need to eat and I need to finish my notes for Tuesday's debate with Roy Sanderson, if we're going to play tomorrow." "Then we take a nap?" Carson held out her hand and helped her up. Kennedy engulfed her in a hug from behind and purred against the side of her neck, "I'm sleepy already." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The debate had been going for a while, and Kennedy was glad she'd chosen a dark suit. It might be hotter than her cream-colored one, but dark hid sweat much better. She wasn't nervous. It was just damned hot. The overhead lights were bright, flooding the stage in unwelcome heat on what was a much-too-warm spring evening. It wasn't really a debate as much as it was a comparison and contract question and answer session. The Austin League of Independent Voters was sponsoring the event, held in the standing-room only auditorium of Lago Vista High School. It was nice to have the home court advantage. Roy Sanderson, it seemed, lived in Austin, in a mansion off Far West Boulevard. During the first half hour, Kennedy and her opponent had taken turns answering policy-based questions from a list composed by the League. They'd taken turns explaining their views on the environment, education, infrastructure, crime, immigration, and civil rights, limited to two-minutes each per question. The second half was trickier, as both she and Roy Sanderson were allowed to ask direct questions to each other. They both knew their constituents. The good folk of District 48 were a frustrating duality. Most of the families in the area had money. Admittedly, one could not afford to live in a lakefront community without it. They were all good little capitalists, but with a liberal environmental streak a mile wide. They loved their life on the lake, and loved making the money it took to live there. They just didn't want their beloved lake threatened in any way. So, while Kennedy hammered away at Sanderson's poor environmental record, he took pot shots right back at her, in an attempt to make her out a greedy millionaire lawyer no different from him. And if she wasn't any different, why should the people vote for change? It was a brilliant strategy, except for one fatal flaw, or perhaps two: Kennedy wasn't a greedy lawyer and she frankly didn't give a rat's ass if she won the election or not. It was obvious Sanderson was frustrated in his attempts to rattle her. Down on the front row, dead center, sat Carson, wearing a tasteful sage-colored pantsuit and looking cool as a cucumber. To her right were Heidi, Valerie, Serena, Marcus, and the rest of Kennedy's law firm. To her left were Chip and Brian, who appeared anything but calm. Carson twice offered to get Chip a ginger ale, as she was certain the man was going to throw up each time Kennedy was asked a new question. Between practically holding Chip's hand, and fielding text messages from Katie, who was consigned to her bed back at the house, and was watching on television, Carson hoped she was catching at least half of what Kennedy had to say. She also hoped Sanderson was as flustered and overheated as he looked. She knew her warm-blooded partner was suffering as well. The difference was that Kennedy hid it completely. Despite it being almost 100 degrees outside, Kennedy looked as if she were sitting at a table outdoors in Alaska, drinking iced tea. She smiled in all the right places, her answers were sensible, and it tickled Carson to no end that every time she gestured with her hands, her engagement ring caught the overhead light, sending sparkles across the stage curtain behind her. Kennedy glanced at her notes, choosing her last question. It needed to be good, and it needed to hit home. She calmly looked up, glancing first at the watch she'd laid across the podium, and then turning her full attention toward Roy Sanderson. "Roy --" She'd been calling him by the more casual first name all evening. Chip had been in favor of it, advising it would appear more home-town, make her sound like one of the boys. Brian of course, was not, strongly urging her to use the more respectful 'Mr. Sanderson.' She continued, "I understand you're backing a proposal to widen Bee Caves Road to the south of the lake, and to lengthen and widen Longhorn Crossing Road out of Lago Vista to the north, and link it to 620 via bridge across the lake. Is that true?" "Why yes, Miss Nocona, it is." He had the annoying habit of smiling broadly and looking not at her, but the crowd, when he addressed her. "The good people of our community are weary of the long and congested commute from the lake into the city each day. Both projects will make life much easier for them, don't you think. After all, you yourself make that long commute each day. Wouldn't it be nice to have a shortcut across the lake instead of having to drive all the way around?" "Not if I have to listen to the traffic of a major freeway cutting through Lago Vista, deal with tenfold boat traffic on the weekend, and watch my orange grove die from smog, not to mention have my peace and quiet disturbed," she quickly retorted. "Have your people done studies on the environmental impact of those projects, sir? Or the impact it will have on those small communities around the lake? There's a reason people are willing to commute all the way from out there, Roy, even if it is inconvenient. If they wanted to live with the traffic and headaches of the big city, they could all pack up and move back into Austin." "Studies would indicate the citizens of District 48 are prepared to make trade-offs, in exchange for more comfort during their commute, and more time with their families in the evening." He projected a toothy grin toward the press section, emphasizing the word 'family.' "Hmmm." Kennedy wrinkled her nose very briefly. "I supposed that's why those same citizens fought for years against the development that finally was approved, and marred the beauty of our hills over the lake forever." She riffled through her notes. "Development that met with your support and approval, I believe. Development that awarded huge contracts to some of your legal clients." She stared pointedly at him, and he shot darts back at her with his eyes. "She shoots, she scores," Carson whispered, nudging Heidi in the ribs. "Miss Nocona, I represent most of the development companies in the Austin and Travis County area. The odds one or more of them would be awarded some of those contracts was considerable." He rocked back on his heels, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. "I'm sure they were," she replied sarcastically. "You got some very nice campaign contributions from them that year, eh? Kind of tough to overlook those in favor of a concerned citizens meeting held that year before the development was approved -- that would be the one you missed while playing golf with one of your developers, I believe." She folded her hands on top of the podium, politely waiting. "My people were at that meeting," Sanderson answered, smiling despite the sweat beading his forehead. "In the long run, that development has brought business and dollars to District 48. We can't remain wilderness forever and remain competitive in today's world. Any further questions, Miss Nocona, or may I have my turn?" "Just one thing. I telecommute half the week, and I support a training program that goes into offices in Austin and helps them set up their employees to work from home. That's the answer for those long commutes, not more traffic and pollution clogging the shores of Lake Travis. Now, by all means, take your turn while you can, Roy." She smiled charmingly, as a smattering of laughter rippled across the auditorium. "You pride yourself on your law practice, do you not?" He nervously shuffled the note cards on his podium and warning bells went off in Kennedy's head. He seemed anxious for her answer. "Pride?" She tilted her head to one side. "Who wouldn't be proud of what I've built? I have a stable of happy and successful corporate clients who bring in enough income for me and my staff to give back to our community in the form of pro bono work." "Ah, yes, your pet project." Sanderson pounced on the answer and internally she cringed, wondering what land mine she'd stepped on. She thought she heard Brian squeak from the front row. "I've read about the hours you spend at the University law school's legal clinic. Would it interest you to know, Miss Nocona, that the clinic board has not officially endorsed you for office? Why should these good people vote for you, if your own colleagues are hesitant to throw their support in your direction? Do you have an explanation for that?" Definitely a squeak. "Well --" Kennedy rubbed the bridge of her nose, composing her thoughts. It was surprising, and a little disappointing. She hadn't really been keeping up with who had and had not endorsed her, and now she wondered if she wanted to know. Looking up, she thought quickly, about the direction of her law practice, her goals, and her life with Carson. A lot had changed in five years, for the good. Suddenly, it just didn't matter. Glancing over her podium and past the edge of the stage, her eyes fell on a very troubled blonde sitting in the front row, folding and unfolding her hands in her lap. Kennedy smiled as much as she dared, given the question, and eased her hand to the front of her podium, casually making the sign language symbol for 'I love you.' She watched as Carson immediately relaxed, sat up taller, and made the sign back at her. Life was good. Kennedy turned her body slightly toward Sanderson. Meet your target head on. Wasn't that what her high school archery coach always said? "I am what I am, Roy. People should vote for me because they, as individuals, believe in me, not because of what some special interest group does. As for the clinic, I don't know. Sure, folks can get my services free at the legal clinic. No one pays a penny there. I'll admit I've not graced their doors as often as I used to. I've had other volunteer projects taking up some of my time at my own office. And I've been busier at home than usual. But I've always been very supportive of the work done there. Whether they support me or not, is another thing. I don't know if they just forgot to get their endorsement in or if they don't plan to vote for me, for whatever reason. That's their business, but if I'm not wanted there -- if they don't support me and don't plan to vote for me -- I can always pick up my toys and go to another playground, if you will. It might not be free anymore. It may end up being one of the low-cost clinics, or one of the sliding-scale ones, because that's the only fee one in town. I love what I do. That won't change. I just may have to do it in a different way. It's not like I don't have other options. By the way, Roy, how many hours have you volunteered at the clinic this past year? Any pro bono work outside the clinic? Hmmm?" She smiled like a Cheshire cat as his face grew noticeably red. Bull's-eye. She may not have kept up with her endorsements, but she knew the answer to that question. Roy Sanderson had never set foot in the place and as far as Chip's research team could tell, the man wouldn't know a pro bono case if it walked up and smacked him across the top of his head. "I donated several hundred dollars to pro bono projects last year, Miss Nocona." He still appeared nervous, and finally, the fake smile was gone, replaced by a feebler one. "Dollars yes, but not with your but in a chair, I gather?" More laughter greeted her relieved ears. "What's the matter Roy, afraid you might get cooties from the more unfortunate members of our society?" She faced the crowd, giving Sanderson a very cold shoulder. "It might interest this audience to know that more and more, I'm seeing pro bono clients on this side of Capital of Texas Highway. Times are tough everywhere. When you support those free and low-cost clinics, you're not just giving to the folks in East Austin, you may very well be helping out your neighbor." The moderator called time, as Sanderson mopped his brow with a handkerchief. They shook hands in the middle of the stage. "You're going to regret tonight, you damned dyke," Sanderson whispered through his smiling teeth. It was so low, she knew no one else had heard it. The cold fire in his eyes sent a chill down her spine. "That a threat?" she hissed back. "Take it however you wish." He let go of her hand and turned on his heels, striding across the stage toward an entourage waiting to one side. She watched him for a moment, then turned toward her own entourage. Pausing for the cameras, she motioned at Carson, who joined her. The minute she felt Carson's arm slide around her waist, her world was righted. "Let's get out of here," she quietly spoke into Carson's ear. "You don't want to talk to the press?" "No." Kennedy waved politely at the reporters who were clamoring around her. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, I need to get home and check on my very pregnant sister in law." They ducked out a side door with Chip and Brian on their heels. Kennedy turned. "We can debrief tomorrow." "But --" Brian fussed with a tape recording of the debate. "Tomorrow," Kennedy repeated. "Heidi, Val, y'all want to head over to the Driskill for some cheesecake and coffee?" Vigorous nods were her response, and she headed for the 4Runner. Carson's head snapped around and up at her so fast, she feared her lovely partner would get whiplash. "But after all that?" Carson sputtered. "And the legal clinic?" "Screw the legal clinic," Kennedy answered succinctly. "Carson, there's one good thing about this election. I don't give a rat's ass if people vote for me or not. I really don't. If I win, I win. If not, I move on." "You aren't at least going to talk to the clinic people?" Carson spoke through the truck window, even as Kennedy closed the door for her. She leaned in, resting her forearms on the windowsill. "Nope. If it was an oversight, I'm sure I'll be hearing from them. If not, well --" she waved one hand in the air. "C'est la vie. I've been thinking of going in a different direction with my pro bono work anyway. Perhaps this was the kick in the pants I needed." "You really don't care?" Carson reached across, stroking her hair. It felt wonderful and made just about everything else that had happened, irrelevant. "I really don't." Kennedy leaned in, quickly sampling Carson's lips. She chuckled at the gurgle of surprised response, before Carson eagerly kissed her back. She cradled Carson's cheek with one hand. "All I care about is that you and I make the best life together we can. We're both very giving people. I have no worries that charity in one form or another, won't be a part of that life. I love you Carson. That's really all that matters. Now, let's go get some cheesecake with the people we can truly call our friends." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Carson entered Jesse H. Jones Hall, the cool blast of air-conditioning a relief after her walk across campus -- literally across campus. She'd parked behind the University Co-op, intent on grabbing an extra large latte from the Starbucks a few blocks behind it. Somehow, the trip to Starbucks had turned into a jaunt down memory lane, and she ambled past the communications complex, across a corner of the west mall, past the Tower plaza, and then cut north, finding herself at the complex of buildings that house the law school. "Come on Carson," she chided herself. "You know good and well why you're here." She glanced to the left and made her way past bulletin boards full of announcements -- sale of textbooks, offers to type papers for a price, impromptu study groups -- and stopped at the doors to the law library. Slowly, she pushed the heavy wooden doors open and paused inside. It smelled of paper dust, floor polish, and -- she sniffed the air -- electricity. Technology had found the venerable old library and most study carrels were equipped with electrical outlets for laptop computers. As she approached the main desk, an older, very thin, librarian frowned directly at her cup of coffee. "Oh." Carson glanced at the cup and then at the woman. "I didn't see any signs. Do I need to take it back outside?" "No," the woman groused. "The students would revolt if we banned Starbucks from the library. Just be careful." "I will." The cup was almost empty, and Carson hastily finished it, then carefully dropped the empty cup in a trash can at the end of the counter. This earned her a smile of approval and she stifled a grin. The woman looked exactly like the stereotypical librarian, from the bun at the back of her head, to the chain connected to her glasses ear pieces, to the neat cardigan buttoned up to her throat. It was easily 95 degrees outside, but, Carson supposed, the inside temperatures might warrant a sweater if one were to spend all day there. Taking advantage of the woman's apparent improved mood, Carson returned the smile and moved closer, rifling through a set of brochures in a stand at one end of the desk. "May I help you?" The woman peered at her over the rim of her glasses. "I'm interested in the legal clinic." Carson replaced the brochures in the holder. "What's the nature of your issue?" the woman asked in a mildly-surprised tone. She appraised Carson's attire, which, wild casual, bore several name-brand labels from the polo pony embroidered on her t-shirt pocket, to the Hilfiger tag on her shorts. "Oh," Carson smiled innocently. "I don't have any issues. At least not legal ones. I was more curious as to who all is on the governing board and perhaps any recent news articles it's mentioned in, or maybe any minutes from board meetings. Those are public record, aren't they?" "Are you a reporter?" The woman had now moved around the desk, revealing a shin-length pleated gray skirt and penny loafers. Carson hadn't seen penny loafers since junior high school. "Um, no." Carson forced her eyes away from the woman's feet and back to her face. "Just a student of politics. At least for now." "Oh." The woman visibly relaxed. "Why don't you take a seat in that room over there --" she pointed to a small, private glass-enclosed room with a desk inside. "-- and I'll bring you a file of news clips. Would that be helpful?" "Yes, thank you." Carson headed toward the room and turned. "If you could also please get me a list of the board members -- student and faculty -- I'd appreciate it." "I can get that for you first." The woman disappeared back behind the desk, kneeling down and rummaging through something. In a moment she popped back into view. "Here's my phone contact list. You can make a copy at one of the machines or use the pad of paper on the desk in there if you need to make any notes from it. I'll go get the clipping file." "Thank you." Carson took the list and went inside the small room, closing the door behind her. She sat down and leaned on the desk top, reading the names on the list one by one. None of them sounded familiar and she shrugged a little. Kennedy wasn't on the board, but she found her lover's name typed on a list of attorney advisers on the next page. Directly below it was Valerie's name, and squeezed in below it in hand-written script was Heidi's name as well. "Didn't know she'd joined up, too," Carson muttered. Heidi had been with Kennedy's firm for a little over a month, and so far, there had been no complaints from Kennedy. Heidi had come out to the house for exactly one dinner since the incident on the boat, but mostly it seemed she spent her days working and her evenings attending AA meetings and settling into a much calmer life than the one she'd led in Dallas. In a moment, the librarian returned with the clippings file, and left Carson to her studies. She wasn't sure exactly what she was looking for. Two weeks had passed since the debate and Kennedy had spoken little of it, other than to remark she thought Brian needed to consider daily sedatives. A dozen times Carson had thought of bringing up the clinic's snub of Kennedy's political candidacy, and then thought better of it. Kennedy seemed almost oblivious to it and Carson finally acknowledged that perhaps she was more miffed than Kennedy herself was. "So --" she opened the folder. "Why would a liberal clinic, at a liberal University, in the liberalist city in the state, hold back from endorsing one of their own?" The clinic had not gone so far as to endorse Roy Sanderson, it had merely abstained from making any statements about any candidates running for the Texas House. She quickly scanned several short news pieces -- mostly of some of the court cases the clinic had handled and a few regarding individual students whose involvement in the clinic was mentioned as a sidebar comment. Finally, in the last article in the file, she spotted a black and white photo of Roy Sanderson and another individual. It was an article in the Daily Texan, documenting a small donation Sanderson made to the clinic the preceding year. She looked closer at the caption -- 'Roy Sanderson's nephew, Michael Gilliland, accepts the donation on behalf of the clinic.' The name wrung a bell. "Michael Gilliland?" She shuffled back through the clippings and then glanced over at the phone list. Michael Gilliland was on the student board of the clinic. The notation next to his name indicated he was a third-year law student Behind the clippings folder was a folder of clinic board meeting minutes. Carson found the minutes from the first board meeting after Kennedy announced her candidacy, and began working her way forward. One month after the announcement, she discovered the board held a meeting in which the topic of endorsements came up, led by, no surprise, Michael Gilliland. The details were sketchy, other than to note that Gilliland made some sort of presentation and the board voted to abstain from political endorsements for the remainder of the year. "Ah. Pulling favors for Uncle Roy, I see." She closed the folder. There was no need to make copies of anything. She knew Kennedy well enough to know that even armed with the knowledge, she would never do anything about it. It made her wonder what other organizations Sanderson might have exerted his influence over, and if there were other groups that might withhold public support of Kennedy as a result. Returning the files to the librarian, she left the building and made her way back across campus. It was hot and humid, and she stuck to the shade as much as possible. Passing the communications building, she decided to step inside and get a drink of water. It was cool and a little dark in the lobby, and after a visit to the water fountain, she made her way through a photography exhibit set up in one corner of the large space. "Hey," a voice shouted in a whisper. "What about her?" "She's perfect!" Another voice exclaimed. Carson turned, just as two students timidly approached her, boys in baggy shorts, long t-shirts, and flip-flops. One had a long ponytail down his back and the other had blue-dyed chunks in his black hair, along with multiple piercings in his ears, nose, and eyebrows. "Are you a student?" One of them asked, after a slight shove from the other. "Sorority girl, aren't you?" The other asked. "Pi Phi?" "No to both," Carson answered with a smile. "Though I used to be a student here. Hate to disappoint, but I wasn't a sorority girl." "Cool," the ponytailed one nodded his approval. "I'm David." He held out his hand and Carson shook it. We're shooting a film for our class. We're filming tonight over in one of the studios and our female actresses bailed on us. They got free tickets to the Black-Eyed Peas over at the Erwin Center tonight. Would you like to be in our film?" Carson's eyebrows shot up. "What kind of part?" "We need you to play a cop," the pierced one answered. "I'm Ziggy." He also held out a hand for Carson to shake. "We have a uniform the other girl was going to wear. It looks like it would fit you. What are you a size 4?" "Good eye," Carson nodded. "It's just a quick part. We just need you to play that you're stopping someone for a traffic violation, and you end up pulling them out of the car and patting them down, cuffing them, and hauling them in." He sighed and forged on. "Look, we got picked to film a documentary thing about the conditions of the county jail, okay? One of the girls on our team is directing. It's an easy grade for us, but our deadline is end of the week. She sent us to scout for actresses after those two bailed. If you play the cop, all we need to find is the tough chick you arrest." "What does she have to do?" Carson pulled her cell phone out. "Just get arrested and hauled into the jail. It's the set-up for the rest of the film," David responded. "We convinced the director the film would be more interesting if she tossed in a few hot chicks." "I know just the person for the part." Carson hit a speed dial button. "All right!" David and Ziggy high-fived each other. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chapter 7D Carson sat on a cement bench outside the communications building, enjoying the last remnants of sunlight. It was interesting, wearing a police uniform. Every student that passed her gave her at least a twenty-foot berth. Two had passed her with wide-eyed stares, and one had glanced her way, then took off running in the opposite direction. Wonder what he did," she muttered, looking down at her ensemble -- a reasonable facsimile of an Austin police uniform, complete with fake badge and hat. "Wonder how scared he would've been if I were actually armed?" She looked up, shielding her eyes from the western sun, just as a vision rounded the corner, strutting in her direction, casting a long shadow across the plaza, a familiar swagger to the hip movement. "Damn." It was amazing that after nine months, just looking at Kennedy could still make her knees turn to rubber and her heart go pitter-pat. She took in the ripped, faded jeans, black leather boots, studded black belt, and ribbed white tank top. As Kennedy drew closer, a distinct jingling sound reached her ears. "Are those chains?" Carson looked down at her lover's leather-clad feet where there were, indeed, spur-like chains fastened around her ankles. "You said to dress like a motorcycle gang member." Kennedy reached into her back pocket and pulled out a bright red bandana, which she tied around her head. "Good enough? My chaps are in Alpine and it's too damned hot to wear the jacket." "More than good enough." Carson stood, her eyes roaming up and down Kennedy's body in great appreciation. "Good enough to --" she licked her lips. "-- you know." Carson smiled, feeling a blush heat her cheeks. Kennedy lifted a pair of mirrored shades, her blue eyes warm and sparkling as she reached across, tugging at the badge pinned to Carson's chest. "Good enough to do things cops don't do in uniform?" she helpfully supplied. "I can help you get out of the uniform, if you'd like." She flashed a cheeky grin. "Tell me again why we're helping out two film students you don't even know, on a school night?" "Because I thought it might be fun? Honestly, because I remember what it was like, being in their shoes," Carson hastily explained, grabbing her hand and leading her across the plaza and toward the building. "It was hell shooting a film for a grade and having someone drop out at the last minute, or show up unprepared, and having to scramble to replace them." "I thought you majored in paralegal studies." Kennedy stopped, placing her hands on her hips and looking at Carson as if she were seeing her for the first time. "No, I got a paralegal certificate as part of my degree, but you can't major in that. I got it because my parents insisted at least part of my education needed to be in something practical. I majored in radio-television-film." She took Kennedy's hand again, smiling. "I had this silly idea I was going to go make movies. When all was said and done, I didn't even end up in entertainment law." "How did I not know this?" Kennedy started walking again. "It never came up, I guess." Carson led her past the building. "First we have to go inside. They have one of the sound stages in the building set up to look like a jail." "At least it's a part I'm familiar with." Kennedy laughed, remembering several such instances from her rebellious teen years. "And at least it's for a worthy cause. I have bailed plenty of clients out of Travis County jail, who ended up there mostly because their skin was the wrong color. 'Bout time someone exposed them. They could use some facilities improvement." They entered the building to be greeted by Ziggy, who quickly introduced them to the crew. As Kennedy sat across the room, reviewing the script and having a number of fake tattoos applied, he pulled Carson aside. "Damn. Where'd you find her? She's perfect. Has she got a boyfriend?" "I live with her. Yes she is, and no she definitely doesn't have a boyfriend. She's mine." Carson fluttered her ring for his appraisal. "Aw, man. The good looking ones are always taken. Or gay." He looked down in utter dejection. "In this case, both." Carson laughed. "What's the plan here?" "We're going to shoot out of order and get the scene out of the way where you walk her down the hall and place her in the cell. We thought we should do that first, so we're not all sweaty if we have to do many takes in the alley for the arrest scene." He handed her a script with very few lines. "This shouldn't take long at all," Carson commented, after studying it. "Too bad they wouldn't let you film at the county jail, but I guess being it's an expose on them, they would probably take exception." "We have that taken care of," Ziggy responded, a mysterious smile on his face. "A few students have gone in undercover as part of a prison ministry. Did you know you can get really good video on some phones these days?" "Clever." Carson nodded in approval, as Kennedy stood, her make-up job complete. "We ready?" She sidled up to Carson, as Lisa, the director, joined them. "You two look great." Lisa sat aside a can of Full Throttle and picked up a clipboard. "Thanks for helping us out." "Brings back memories," Carson responded. "My pleasure." Kennedy held out her hand and shook Lisa's. "Okay, here's what I need in here." Lisa led them around the corner to a sound stage and Ziggy and David trotted behind with the camera equipment. "We're going to cuff Kennedy and then you're going to bring her in that side door over there." She pointed to the door and then to a hallway. "Then take her down that hall and there's a room to the left. You're going to shove her through the door and slam it and lock it. We installed a burglar bar door, so it will look like jail cell." "Thank god for Home Depot," David supplied. "Sounds easy enough." Kennedy walked over to table across the room where several props lay, and turned and placed her hands behind her back, while Carson cuffed her. "Those feel okay?" Carson patted her arm when she was finished. "I didn't get 'em too tight, did I?" "Nah." Kennedy turned around. "Feels just like they always did." "They cuffed you in high school?" Carson exclaimed. "Shhhh." Kennedy nudged her with an elbow, unable to reach up. "Not so loud." "Ooops. Sorry." Carson lowered her voice. "Were you a threat?" "Eh, no, but I was already taller than a lot of the employees of the Brewster County Sheriff's department, by the time I was fourteen." She smiled sheepishly. "Okay, let's get moving." Lisa motioned them over. The inside scene was accomplished in one take, with no dialogue, only simulated struggle on Kennedy's part as she was pushed and shoved down the hallway by Carson, who managed to accomplish the task without bursting into a fit of laughter. Only after Lisa called 'cut,' did both women lose their composure, Kennedy chuckling as Carson shaking in silent laughter as she unlocked the handcuffs and clipped them to her belt loop. "That was fun." She grasped Kennedy's hands, examining her wrists until she was satisfied she hadn't left any marks. "Glad those fit you okay." "Yeah." Kennedy bumped hips with her. "Maybe we should take them home to play with." Carson's eyes grew wide and she opened her mouth to speak, but clicked her jaw closed as Lisa approached them. Kennedy merely winked at her, letting Carson's questioning expression go, for the time being. "Y'all ready to shoot the arrest scene?" She motioned the others toward the door. "I apologize. It's awfully hot out there tonight." "Not any hotter than it's getting in here," Carson muttered under her breath as they followed her out to the street. "What was that?" Lisa turned.

"I said 'it's always hot this time of year'," Carson hastily answered, hearing Kennedy's amused snickering to her left. "Okay, for this scene, we've managed to make that white car over there look like a cop car. Carson, you get in the car and Kennedy, we need you on this motorcycle. It would be helpful if you can actually ride it, but if you can't we can work around it." She handed Carson a set of car keys. "I can ride it." Kennedy mounted the bike and waited for further instruction. "Great!" Lisa got David and Ziggy situated with two cameras, Ziggy inside the car and David two blocks down the street. "Carson, just follow Kennedy on the bike. Kennedy, you're going to run that stop sign right there. We've got some crew watching for cars but it's not a busy intersection. Just be careful. Carson, Ziggy will turn on the lights on top of the car and we'll dub in the sound of a siren later. Kennedy, you just need to act like you hear the siren, and then look very aggressive and annoyed, and pull over when you reach David. A lot of the scene is ad-libbing. What starts out as a routine traffic stop turns into a physical confrontation. You've both read the script. We just want to show how little infractions get blown way out of proportion." She handed Kennedy the motorcycle keys. Both women took their places and Kennedy started the bike up with a rumble, revving the throttle and turning around to look at Carson. "Oh my good lord in heaven," Carson murmured. "I hope I can get some screen grabs from your film." "She's hot." Ziggy whole-heartedly agreed. "Sorry, she may be yours, but I can't help it." "No worries." Carson smiled. "I'm used to people staring at her." "Don't sell yourself short, chica." He looked over, focusing the camera on her and peering through the lens. "Some of them may be staring at you." "Thank you," Carson answered softly. "She tells me that all the time, but sometimes it's nice to get unbiased confirmation." "Action!" Lisa yelled from across the street. "Here we go." Carson watched Kennedy take off, and she shifted the car into gear, following behind at a safe distance. As Kennedy rolled through the stop sign, Ziggy turned on the flashing red and blue lights and kept filming. Just as she'd been told, Kennedy turned around and glared at Carson, letting go of one side of the handlebars for a moment. "Did she just flip me off?" "Yep." Ziggy laughed. "Perfect. Lisa'll leave that in." "That little stinker." She gunned her engine and pulled smoothly in behind Kennedy as she stopped the bike. "Go get 'er." Ziggy gave her a pat on the back as Carson exited the car. She strode toward Kennedy in businesslike fashion. "Ma'am, can I see your license and insurance?" "What'd I do?" Kennedy crossed her arms over her chest. "Rolled through that stop sign back there." Carson gestured. "Your license, please?" Kennedy jerked her wallet from her back pocket, the Harley chain attaching it to her belt loop jingling. She rifled through it and defiantly tossed the license and insurance card at Carson, snorting out a little laugh as they fluttered to the ground at her feet. "There you go, officer," she snarled sarcastically. Carson whipped an unloaded pistol from her holster and aimed it at Kennedy. "Don't move." She knelt down, picking up the cards and studying them. "Now. Get off the bike and place your hands against the car." "I didn't do anything." Kennedy frowned. "Do it!" Carson waved the gun at her. "Alright, already." Kennedy swung her leg over the bike and sauntered sullenly to the car, where she leaned over, placing her palms down on the hood, flexing her fingers as they made contact with the hot metal. Carson kept pointing the gun at her. "Spread 'em." She slid one foot between Kennedy's boots, and kicked first one foot and then the other, and Kennedy complied, her long hair spilling down and hiding her features as she hung her head. Carson eased the gun back into the holster and began to pat Kennedy down. As she ran a hand up the inside of Kennedy's leg, she felt a strong calf muscle contract and tighten. "Knife, eh?" She pulled a leatherman from Kennedy's back pocket and confiscated it. "Hey!" Kennedy spun around, grabbing at her wrist. "There's no law against pocket knives." Carson looked up, almost forgetting her lines. Kennedy's eyes were unreadable behind the sunglasses, but just the faintest twitch of her jaw said it all. Kennedy was having a blast. Her back to the camera, Carson briefly smiled, then continued. "There's a law against resisting a routine traffic stop and using indecent gestures in public." She grasped Kennedy's arm and they struggled, before Carson wedged a leg between Kennedy's and effectively got her turned around. Shoving Kennedy cheek down against the car, she pinned her in place with her body until she could snap the handcuffs in place. Kennedy pretended to resist, pressing and writhing against her the entire time. It was like riding a bucking bronco, and Carson wasn't certain which of them was having more fun. "You have the right to remain silent --" Carson started out. "Bite me." Kennedy spit at her feet. "Save your breath, officer, I have the words memorized." Carson finished reciting her rights anyway, then hauled and shoved a struggling Kennedy into the back of the car, slamming the door as Kennedy landed in a heap in the back seat. "Cut!" Lisa yelled. She ran across the street. "Perfect! God, y'all were awesome." "No more takes?" Kennedy sounded almost disappointed. "No." Lisa smiled. "That would be tough to top." "Hey." David and Ziggy joined them, and David held out a business card. "I'm a member of the Campus Young Democrats. Miss Nocona, we'd love to have you come speak. Most of us don't live in your district, but a few do, and we'd do anything we can to support you." "Holy shit!" Ziggy looked first at Carson and then at Kennedy. "Now I know why you two look familiar. You're the chick running for the House." "Yep. That's me." Kennedy smiled and took the card, placing it in her pocket. "I'll look at my calendar tomorrow and give you a call." "That would be great." David shook her hand, and then Carson's, and the others followed suit. "Well." Lisa collected all the props and placed them in a bag. "We need to finish up some editing tonight, but maybe y'all could join us for the wrap party next week." "Sure," Carson glanced over at Kennedy, who nodded her agreement. "How about I have this uniform cleaned and then bring it to the party? I think I got it a little sweaty." "That works." Lisa placed the bag in the car. "See y'all next week, then. We'll call you with details on the party." They said good-byes and Carson and Kennedy watched as Ziggy rode away on the motorcycle and the others took off in the car. After they'd turned the corner, Kennedy fished the handcuffs from her back pocket and held them up. "Oops. Guess we'll have to return these with the uniform." "You really want to play with those?" Carson pushed at the cuff that dangled free, spinning it around. "Tell me you're not turned on right now." Kennedy reached over, stroking a flushed cheek. " 'Cause feeling that body of yours pinning me down, that got my engines going, babe." "I am," Carson admitted. "Are we going to get into role-playing, now?" "Nah." Kennedy slung an arm across her shoulders and they began walking to the lot their cars were parked in. "I don't need to pretend you're anyone else. But using a few toys, that can be a lot of fun. You know, we never did order that little toy you dreamed about when we were in Alpine." "Order?" Carson squeaked. "As in order on line?" "That's the only way we can get one, sweetheart. Dildos are illegal in Texas other than for educational purposes." They reached the 4Runner. "You want to drive home together and ride in with me in the morning to pick up your car?" "I'd love to." Carson got in the truck. As Kennedy came around and joined her, Carson turned and faced her. "You mean they sell vibrators, but not dildos?" "Ah-ah-ah." Kennedy shook a finger at her. "They aren't vibrators. They're for medicinal massage." Carson snorted, then burst out laughing. "Before you came along, I sure did need a lot of medicine." "Why Carson Garret, I can't believe you just admitted that to me." Kennedy backed the truck out. "Oh, and like you didn't." Carson reached across, placing a hand on her thigh. "I know you better than that, Stud. I know good and well you didn't completely abstain for the past five years." "Nope. I needed a few massages myself from time to time." Kennedy grinned fetchingly. "In fact, I think I’m going to need one by the time we get home." "Mmmm." Carson squeezed her leg. "Seeing you in this outfit, I can think of a few places I'd like to massage." "Baby, let's go home." Kennedy revved the engine and pulled onto the highway. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Continued in Chapter 8

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.